"I rather fancy her," he said. "You don't mind if I
borrow her for a while, do you, Vaughan?" It wasn't really a
request, not the way he said it.
Clenching her hands into fists, Kadie sent a pleading
glance at Vaughan. He looked at her, his eyes filled with
pity. "As you wish, my lord," he said, and vanished from sight.
Kadie stared at Saintcrow. She had been afraid of
Vaughan, but that was nothing compared to the terror that
gripped her when Saintcrow looked at her through those
fathomless black eyes.
"Come along, Kadie Andrews." His gaze burned into hers,
hotter than hellfire, yet strangely compelling. When he held
out his hand, she dared not refuse.
With a predatory smile, his fingers – long and
incredibly strong – closed over her own. A rush of
preternatural power surrounded her. It was like being caught
in the center of a tornado. The world spun out of focus.
Darkness swallowed her.
When she came to her senses, she was in a large, square
room, trapped in Rylan Saintcrow's embrace. Kadie didn't
move, could scarcely breathe. He was close. So close. His
power engulfed her, a mysterious pulsing energy unlike
anything she had experienced before. His unique scent, alien
and yet somehow enticing, filled her with an emotion she
couldn't define. When she risked a look into his eyes, she
felt herself falling, tumbling from this world into times
past where knights on horseback vied for supremacy in the
lists. She saw brightly colored banners fluttering in the
breeze, the spires of an ancient castle, swords flashing in
sunlight, weary men gathered around campfires. It took her a
moment to realize she was seeing scenes from his past. How
was that possible?
When he released her from his gaze, she wriggled out of
his arms. Retreating several steps, she glanced at her
surroundings. A fireplace large enough to hold a horse
dominated the room. The tables were made of heavy wood, the
sofas covered in a dark green fabric. Oriental rugs covered
the floor. A tapestry, its colors faded by time, hung from
one of the walls. An ornate bookcase took up space on
another. She ran her hand over the suit of armor in the
corner, wondering if he had worn it in the Crusades. A pair
of crossed swords hung over the fireplace. She jumped back,
startled, when flames sprang to life in the hearth.
Wrapping her arms around herself in an age–old
feminine gesture, she dared a glance at Saintcrow. "What are
you going to do with me?"
She had intended to speak boldly; instead, her voice came
out sounding as frightened as she felt. Belonging to Darrick
Vaughan was suddenly very appealing.
"What does any man want with a woman?"
She didn't like the sound of that at all. Gathering her
courage, she lifted her chin. "You're not a man."
"You think not?" He took a step toward her. "Shall I
prove it to you here and now?"
"No!"
His deep black eyes lit up with amusement. "Would you
rather be with Vaughan?"
"Yes."
He lifted one brow. "What is it about him, I wonder, that
the women find so appealing?"
Kadie stared up at him, mute, her heart racing like that
of an animal caught in a trap. He towered over her, as solid
as a block wall. He might not be a man in the usual sense of
the word, but he was undeniably, blatantly male. Something
primal deep within her responded to him
He took another step toward her. As though hypnotized,
she watched him lift his hand. Her heart beat increased
ten–fold when his knuckles caressed her cheek, slid
down the side of her neck. She shivered when his fingertips
traced her collar bone, then rested lightly on the pulse
throbbing wildly in the hollow of her throat.
Every nerve and cell in her body came to sudden, vibrant
life at his touch.
He smiled at her, an insufferably smug, knowing
smile. "You're mine now." His voice was like the
low rumble of distant thunder. "No other shall have you."
She nodded, unable to speak or object when he was looking
at her like that. Unable to move as he lowered his head and
claimed her lips with his in a long, searing kiss that
threatened to turn her blood to fire and her bones to mush.
She felt bereft when he lifted his head.
He gazed down at her, noting her bruised
lips, the two bright spots of color in her cheeks, the
slightly dazed expression in her eyes. She was a remarkably
pretty woman. Thick dark brown hair fell in soft waves down
her back, almost to her waist. Her eyes were a warm golden
brown above a nose that tilted upward at the end. And her
lips...ah, those lips. Pink and perfectly shaped; made for
his kisses.
He could take her, here, now, but he didn't want to
compel this woman as he had so many others.
When he made love to Kadie Andrews, he wanted it to be
her idea, and he wanted her to remember
every glorious moment of it.